


S&H- Luck o' the Irish

by Harrimaniac27



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M, St. Patrick's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:37:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5456765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harrimaniac27/pseuds/Harrimaniac27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short drabble: It's St. Patrick's day, and Hutch ponders how his and Starsky's relationship has changed recently. Starsky makes a (bad) rainbow joke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	S&H- Luck o' the Irish

Hutch rubbed his eyes. St. Patrick’s Day was usually a crazy day anyway—with all the people who mistakenly thought they could drink four beers, then get in their cars and drive home—but today had just been a load of nonsense. A 211 where the perp was dressed as a leprechaun and told them he couldn’t be caught. He was wrong. A prowler call made by a wife who wouldn’t let her drunk, kilted husband back into the house because he wouldn’t stop badly singing Wild Rover and forgetting all the words. At least four dozen indecent exposure calls for guys who thought that all the ladies (and whoever else happened to be looking) should see what was under his kilt. And the rest? Public inebriation calls.

He and Starsky had been run all over their beat with no time for breakfast, lunch or even a snack, and while Hutch wouldn’t usually worry too much about not eating all day, tonight, he was feeling it. He sighed. He hadn’t become a detective so he could incarcerate short guys dressed as a leprechauns who only stole four dollars and 58 cents from the counter at a convenience store, saying he “needed it” for his “pot o’ gold” in a terrible Irish accent. Thankfully, they were due to be off-shift soon and had some time to stop at a fast-food place.

Starsky came back and knocked on the car window. His hands were so full, he had felt the need to carry a paper bag in his mouth.

“Hey, can you open the door?” He said through his teeth.

Hutch gave Starsky a funny look and unlocked the doors, leaning over to open the driver’s door.

“Whatever’s in that paper bag better be yours,” Hutch said as he took the drinks that Starsky handed to him.

Starsky shook his head after he took the bag out of his mouth. “Whatsa matter? Can’t handle a little spit?”

Hutch smiled and wrinkled his nose.

“Don’t worry, they’re all mine,” Starsky chuckled. “Last time I checked, you didn’t like fried okra.”

Hutch stuck his tongue out and made a choking noise.

“What’d you get for me?”

Starsky handed him a bag. “Chicken Caesar salad with extra croutons.”

Hutch looked in the bag and, sure enough, caesar salad. He furrowed his brows.

“I didn’t know they sold caesar salads…”

“They don’t,” Starsky said, taking a bite out of a fried chicken sandwich. “But I walked over to the Italian place behind them first.”

Hutch shook his head. “So that’s what took you so long!” But he smiled.

“Oh, sure, not even a thank you…” Starsky said with his mouth full.

Hutch nodded, looking up at the ceiling. “Alright, alright…thank you, Starsky.”

Starsky smiled. “There, now that didn’t hurt so much, did it?”

Hutch looked away from him like he hadn’t heard him, but try as he might, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. He and Starsky had been doing this for years…bantering back and forth about minor things, but just recently, it had drastically changed. Hutch had been giving it a lot of thought, actually. It had all started two nights ago…

-%-

“King me.” Starsky said, taking a drink of his beer and putting Hutch’s four pieces in the pile by his empty plate.

Hutch stared at the checkerboard, pointing at Starsky’s piece. “You can’t make that many jumps! Can you?!”

Starsky rolled his eyes, put his beer down, and grabbed the rulebook from the box, flicking a piece of cabbage off of it. He flipped through it for a second, and when he found the page he wanted, he folded it back on the spine and handed it to Hutch.

“Right there,” Starsky pointed. “Middle of the page.”

Hutch mouthed some of the words as he read them. He sighed. Well, alright. It wasn’t against the rules. But it should be. He shook his head and tossed the booklet back into the box.

“Alright, fine…” He kinged Starsky’s piece and took a sip of beer, trying to decide which move to make next. He reached for a piece and Starsky opened his mouth to say something, but Hutch put a finger up. “Starsk! No talking.”

Starsky closed his mouth and put his hands up. He looked away and took another swig of beer.

Hutch moved to a spot that looked decently safe. Starsky shook his head, sighed, put his beer down, and immediately jumped Hutch’s last two pieces.

“Shouldn’ta done that…” He said.

Hutch stared at the board in disbelief. “Wait a minute—but…”

“Hutch, don’t blame  _me_  for you bein’ a lousy checkers player!” Starsky said. He pointed at the board. “You were right here, right?”

Hutch nodded. “Yeah…”

“And I was right here. My king can jump this way—” he demonstrated with his hands, “—and then this way. It says it in the rulebook on that same page you just read.”

Hutch shook his head. “Yeah, I know…” He took another swig of beer. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

Starsky chuckled and started putting away the pieces. “You’re just a sore loser.”

Hutch scoffed. “Hey, at least I’m better-looking.”

Starsky laughed. “What, you’re pretty, so you don’t need to be good at anything?”

Hutch pointed at Starsky with a finger-gun. “I’m better than you on the shooting range.”

“Ohh,  _are_  you?” Starsky said.

Hutch nodded. “Yeah, I am! I got a better score than you the last two times, remember?”

Starsky shook his head, “Yeah, by a half point!”

Hutch giggled. “That’s still better!” Wow, the beer was finally starting to get to him. And since they had to work St. Patrick’s day, this was going to have to do.

“Ah, whatever…” Starsky said, stretching. “You just can’t handle the fact that I’m more popular with the chicks, Mr. Good-looking.”

Hutch shook his head. “Oh yeah? How many girls have hit on you since the beginning of the year, huh, partner?”

Starsky gave his partner a look. “More than you.”

Hutch laughed. “You can’t even tell me how many…”

“Yeah, because I lost count at 26.”

Hutch looked at his partner. “You made that up.”

Starsky wiggled his brows at Hutch, smiled, and took a drink of his beer…but he didn’t confirm or deny it.

Hutch smiled and peeked into his beer bottle to see how much he had left. Less than half.

“I’ll bet you’re a lousy kisser, though.” He blushed after he said it.  _Whoa, Hutchinson, what are you doing?_  But it was too late to backpedal.

Starsky narrowed his eyes at Hutch. That had come out of left field. He pointed his beer bottle at him. “I’ll have you know, I am an  _excellent_ kisser.”

Hutch took a big drink of his beer, feeling a little dizzy after he did. “Nope. Don’t believe you.”

Starsky took a big drink of his beer, too, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “I’m probably a better kisser than you are,  _partner_.” The more alcohol he drank, the thicker his accent was.

Hutch scoffed and took another drink. “I highly doubt that.”

Starsky peeked into his bottle for a second and then tipped it into his mouth, finishing it off. “After a bit more of this, I may just be drunk enough to prove it to ya.”

Hutch stared at his partner and watched as he cracked open another beer. “Pro—you’ll prove it to me? How? Are we gonna go find some poor chick and both kiss her and then ask her who the better kisser is?”

Starsky didn’t answer for a second as he took a big drink from the bottle he’d just opened. Hutch raised a brow. When Starsky had gotten through half of the bottle, he set it down and burped.

“No, I mean…I’ll prove it to  _you_.” Starsky said, giving Hutch a look and pointing a finger at him.

Hutch blinked, heat rising to his cheeks. He suddenly laughed. “Oh, come on, pal, get serious!” he said, finishing off his own beer.

"I  _am_  serious.” Starsky was staring at him with an unreadable look on his face.

Hutch put down his empty beer bottle and stared back. He blinked at him a few times. Neither of them moved for a second…then Starsky stood up. Before Hutch knew it, Starsky’s lips were on his. He let out an involuntary moan, tensing up a bit when it embarrassed him.

Starsky pulled back, still inches away, and looked at his partner.

“Well?”

Starsky smelled like aftershave, Guinness, and corned beef. Hutch’s heart was pounding in his ears. He was so overwhelmed that he couldn’t find any words, so he just shook his head.

Starsky furrowed his brows and gave him an incredulous look. “No?!”

Hutch shook his head again. “N-nope. Still not convinced.” He finally said, blushing deeper.

A subtle, sly smirk played at Starsky’s lips, barely noticeable in the dim light.

“Ohh…I like a challenge…”

Starsky leaned closer, took Hutch’s jaw in his hand and licked Hutch’s lower lip, causing him to gasp. Starsky took the opportunity to close his mouth over Hutch’s, slipping his tongue between his lips. Hutch made a noise like a whine, but made no attempt to pull away. Starsky’s other hand slowly moved up Hutch’s arm and he felt Hutch start to relax in his arms.

 _Oh, boy_ ….Starsky thought.  _I think I like this_ …

He pulled away slightly so he could look at Hutch…who looked back at him through heavy-lidded eyes, looking adorably perplexed with his mouth hanging slightly open.

Starsky smiled at his beautiful partner, suddenly overcome with joy.  _I really like this_.

Starsky leaned back in, his lips centimetres from Hutch’s.

“What do you say  _now_ , huh?” He whispered, brushing his lips against Hutch’s and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Hutch sighed and brought his arm higher up on Starsky’s back.

"…ok….you win,” whispered Hutch, knowing that he and Starsky had just crossed a big line they hadn’t dared to cross for years. He did’t know what it meant, but he knew things would never be the same.

-%-

“Hutch? Are you awake over there?”

Starsky’s voice shook Hutch from his reverie. “Huh?”

Starsky raised a brow at his partner. “Daydreaming? You got a dopey smile on your face.”

“Oh, just…thinking,” he said, taking another bite of his half-eaten salad.

Starsky waited for Hutch to elaborate, but he didn’t.

“‘Bout what?” Starsky prompted.

Hutch blushed and smiled. “Oh, just…the other night.”

Starsky smirked. “Thinking about me?”

Hutch smiled wider, but he didn’t say anything. Starsky made an appreciative sound, then sighed.

“Boy, If we weren’t on duty…” Starsky said, just before eating a couple pieces of okra.

Hutch smirked at him. “What?”

Starsky just raised his brows at Hutch. Suddenly, something out the window caught his eye and he frowned.

“Don’t look now, but I think the luck o’ the irish just paid us another visit.”

Hutch looked out the window and sighed when he saw yet another guy dressed as a leprechaun, this one chasing a lady around the parking lot.

The two men sighed, put down their food and got out of the car.

“You’re cuffing him this time,” Hutch said as they jogged over towards the commotion.

“Why?” Starsky asked, one eyebrow raised.

“It’s your turn,” Hutch said. “Besides, I already got my ‘pot o’ gold’.”

Starsky laughed. “But I already found mine, too,” he said. “He’s got blue eyes and golden hair. You cuff the leprechaun.”

Hutch almost stopped running. Damn it, Starsky had no right to make him feel this way. But he had to admit, he was a sucker for Starsky’s flattery.

“….fine.”

Starsky smiled at his partner’s expression and cheered as Hutch tackled the leprechaun guy and took away the lady’s purse. Starsky returned the purse to the lady. Then he walked back and appreciatively watched Hutch’s backside as he wrestled the leprechaun guy to the ground and cuffed him, reading him his miranda rights.

Starsky whistled and clicked his tongue. “Now that’s what I call the Luck o’ the Irish. Two leprechauns in one day,” he said, earning himself a glare from his partner.

-%-

After booking the leprechaun and finally clocking out, Starsky and Hutch walked down the front steps of the station.

“Your place or mine?” Starsky asked suddenly.

Hutch gave him a confused look.

“Mine,” Hutch blurted.

“Ok.” Starsky nodded as they got into the car and sped off towards venice place.

Hutch furrowed his brows as they accelerated through a green light.

“Starsky, did you…mean what you said about…finding your pot of gold?” He asked suddenly.

Starsky raised a brow.

“Yeah, I did,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the whole world.

Hutch looked down for a moment. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but it was making him feel happy anyway.

Starsky suddenly shrugged. “You know something funny? I really ended up finding my pot of gold at end of a rainbow.”

Hutch cocked his head at Starsky. “Huh?”

Starsky shook his head. “C’mon, Hutch. Were both men. You were at the end of a rainbow.”

Hutch rolled his eyes and almost slapped his forehead when he got the joke.

“You know what’s _lucky_ , Starsk?” Hutch said.

Starsky raised a brow. “What?”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”


End file.
